It's All George Clooney's Fault
by sienna27
Summary: The team spends New Year's in Vegas. H/P lighthearted "naked indecency" trying to avoid the filter : with a sprinkling of plot. One shot.


**Author's Note:** I have no idea if they're cruising looking for sex scenes to delete (weirdos) but if they are, and this disappears, you can find a copy on my site listed below. I'm just posting it here too because there's more traffic.

To the story, this is a New Year's entry. It's also a SMUT entry. So, here be dragons! Or whatever advisory you want to be put on here but just to be clear:

**THIS IS AN M-RATED STORY! M RATED FOR SEX!**

Just don't want any misunderstandings, because I don't generally write straight smut. And unlike say, Second Chances, this story isn't long enough to really have all that much plot beyond the sex. So it's not like you could skim the 'sexy chapter' to get to the main plot, it's just the sexy chapter :) And it's not a premise really lending itself to a longer plotline so, basically it's a one and done. So to speak.

Also, this is not a serious story either. Just a slightly goofy, (aka, faintly buzzed) version of H/P ringing in the New Year, in style. And they aren't related to any other HP I've written, so no other worlds were harmed in the making of this story.

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**TV Bonus Challenge #44 – Smut & Nothing But**

Show: Sex and The City

Title Challenge: Sex and Another City

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**Other Accounts:**

_****NEW WEBSITE: www . fractured-reality . com**_

_**I have a new website. If interested, you can read more about it (and my future on FF . net) on my Tumblr listed below. It's the June 10**__**th**__** note.**_

_**Twitter: ffsienna27 **__– For story announcements, etc. If the alerts, (or the site), are down, this is a backup to find out what's going on for postings. There's also random randomness that is my brain._

_**Tumblr: sienna27 **__– More randomness._

_**Tumblr: cmfanficprompts **__– Just as the name describes. Jointly run with Kavi Leighanna. _

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**It's All George Clooney's Fault**

Emily's eyes snapped open.

WHAT THE . . .?

She was gasping and things were tingling and wet and she really wasn't sure what the fuck had just happened . . . but it felt SO damn good!

And for a second she just embraced the 'SO damn good' element of the moment. But as her breathing started to regulate, and her mind began to clear . . . orgasms tended to make higher brain functions a little hazy . . . she realized then EXACTLY what the fuck was happening!

She was on her hotel room bed, lying prone over Hotch's sleeping body . . . and to her growing horror . . . she saw that her little black cocktail dress was hiked up to her waist. And as she felt the warm tinglies still reverberating through her nether regions, and the wetness spreading in her black lace, her jaw dropped.

OH . . . DEAR . . . GOD!

She did NOT just do that! She did NOT just have an incredibly hot sex dream and then HUMP Hotch in her sleep! Okay, granted the dream was about him, but still, that was just . . . she winced as her hand smacked into her forehead . . . BAD! And not in a good way bad, just BAD, bad! So very bad!

Like, "what the FUCK is WRONG with you, Emily? Bad!"

But knowing that simply berating herself wasn't really helping the moment . . . though admittedly there wasn't much that was GOING to help the moment . . . Emily took a breath to try and get it in gear. And then with her face still scrunched up, she snapped her gaze away from her bunched up dress, and up onto Hotch's pretty face.

She just needed to make sure that he wasn't waking up.

And . . . her breath caught for a second as he sighed . . . no. Oh . . . she slowly exhaled . . . okay, thank you God! Because if he'd known that she'd just done what she just did, she would have died from embarrassment. Just literally died, dead. Call the wagon, we're done here.

God . . . she rolled her eyes . . . why couldn't she have just had a nice NORMAL super erotic dream that didn't involve actual humpage of the man that she had fallen asleep watching Casablanca with? Was that so much to ask? Just a . . . she pouted . . . 'normal' sex dream. Well, apparently it was too much to ask. Because her subconscious . . . and the three flutes of pink champagne . . . must have decided to up the stakes and finally act out some of the very impure thoughts that she'd been having as of late.

Thoughts about the totally hot man lying beneath her.

And of course, she reminded herself, the champagne was just what they'd consumed at the New Year's party. In actuality, she . . . and Hotch . . . had ingested CONSIDERABLY more alcohol when they'd returned to her hotel room. At least a half a bottle of vodka was now swirling about with all of that champagne. And though they had gotten a little tipsy at the party, they hadn't gone back to her room with the intention of doing anything to each other like she'd just done with him.

At least _she_ hadn't.

They'd just had a long week and a shit case . . . one that had finally wrapped with a dead UNSUB that afternoon . . . so Hotch had said that as long as it was essentially already New Year's Eve, and they were already _in_ Vegas, that they could stay one more night to ring in the new year somewhere a bit more festive than the FBI jet.

So Morgan being Morgan, he'd chatted up a half dozen comely bartenders until he found them a party. And not JUST a party, a private one being hosted by George Clooney no less! And so they'd all dusted off their credit cards to pick up some fancy duds. And never let it be said that her team didn't clean up nice. All of them were dressed to the nines, but Hotch especially . . . Emily sighed as she looked back to him sleeping peacefully . . . he was fucking GORGEOUS! More so than usual.

She'd never seen him in a tux before.

She'd wanted to tear it off of him.

Not that she held any actual CLAIM to him in that respect, but still, well . . . her index finger stroked along his cheek . . . he was hers. Kind of. Or at least more hers than he was any of the floozies who'd spent half the night trying to cut in on them dancing and talking. They spent a lot of personal time together now. Movies and dinners, and sometimes she met him and Jack on the weekends if they were going somewhere like the zoo or the museums.

But it was all still fairly platonic. They were pretty touchy feely, but not so much touchy feely in the genitalia area.

They weren't having sex.

But then tonight he'd stopped by her hotel room specifically to collect her, and he'd brought her a rose and told her that she looked beautiful as he gave her one of those little dimples that appeared far too infrequently. And that was probably when her subconscious started kickstarting the latent libido action. Because he was all hot and adorable, and sweet, and it was like they were on a real date like regular people.

Sort of.

Okay yes . . . she nodded to herself as she thought back . . . it WAS a date. There was door collection, and dancing and touching, and exclusive, (undivided) attention at a semi-public gathering.

That counted as a date . . . didn't it?

Well whatever it was, (and she was still leaning towards a first official/unofficial date) she hadn't wanted it to end. So after the clock had passed midnight and she and Hotch shared a nice little New Year's kiss, (no tongues) things had started to wind down at Mr. Clooney's soirée. And then Morgan and JJ came over to tell them that there was an after party at another location, but neither she nor Hotch had any interest in going to another group affair. So instead she'd coaxed Hotch (with minimal effort) into coming back to her room for a post-midnight snack.

Something to sop up a little of the alcohol they'd ingested.

And then once they'd had their little room service snack . . . which had seriously cost almost as much as her last car payment . . . they'd decided that with a bit more food in their systems, a nightcap wouldn't hurt. And it hadn't.

It hadn't hurt one little bit. So they had another drink.

And then another . . . and another . . . and then one more.

She had a thing for prime numbers.

But then Emily, prime number enthusiast or not, remembered how sick she'd gotten the last time she'd gotten hammered on a New Year's . . . stitches had been involved . . . so she'd finally cut herself off at five. Hotch had one more.

He wasn't big on primes.

But geez . . . she scrubbed her hands down her face . . . she wasn't TRYING to take advantage of him when she asked him over! It was just that he was so much more cuddly when he was relaxed. He'd had his arm around her waist ALL night! And well . . . she pouted down at him . . . she'd just wanted to cuddle up on the bed and watch old movies with the man that she'd had a not insignificant crush on for the last two years.

So that's what they'd done. They cuddled and watched movies, and . . . her eyes crinkled slightly as she thought back . . . there was a little bit more kissing and a slight bit of 'hands wandering to areas where they didn't usually go.' That was new for them, but it wasn't like a LOT of kissing, or heavy petting, it was just . . . she pouted again . . . nice.

Until now.

Now when she'd just discovered that she'd turned a very 'nice' fairly-romantic evening into a very TACKY, Vegas somnambulist LAP dance!

Speaking of tacky behavior though, it was then that Emily realized while she was musing about their evening, she was still straddling Hotch's groin. And straddling an unconscious guy with your dress up around your navel wasn't exactly 'classy behavior'. It was more like 'get your own reality show on MTV' type behavior.

Though as she shifted slightly to move back . . . and got a corresponding (new, fun) tingle down below . . . she realized that she wasn't just straddling 'the man,' but more specifically, a not at all insubstantial bulge as well.

One that she had just brushed over with her still sensitive clit.

So with another wince at her horrible manners . . . and this really had been just HORRIBLE manners . . . she tried to push aside the desire to 'brush' over him again, (like repeatedly over and over until her eyes rolled back in her head one more time) she braced her palm onto the headboard.

Hopefully she could push herself back a) without 'lady cumming' all over him again and b) without waking him up.

Of course . . . she huffed humorlessly at her situation . . . if she didn't wake him up when she'd humped him like a dog with a new fire hydrant, then he was probably out cold for a bit longer.

And once she had moved back enough to be straddling his thighs, Emily winced slightly as she looked down again . . . that was a VERY big bulge.

Oh geez! What did she DO to him? That's not cool Emily! You don't get your boss turned something a little bit more, drunk and then give him a major hard on when he's SLEEPING! And really not even just sleeping, the man was freaking UNCONSCIOUS!

Again . . . she shook her head . . . bad manners!

So in an effort to resolve the situation . . . the situation being the giant woody practically poking through his tux pants . . . before Hotch woke up and wondered what the FUCK was happening, Emily tentatively pushed down on the bulge.

And when the tentative approach didn't work, she started pushing with more insistence.

'_JUST GO AWAY DAMN IT! GO DOWN! GO BACK TO YOUR HOME!'_

Not unsurprisingly, it turned out that 'playing with it' wasn't the best course of action. It certainly didn't make it "go away." In fact . . . as she probably should have expected earlier, if not for her sleep fogged, orgasm fogged, prior consumption of vodka and pink champagne fogged, brain . . . the bulge began to get even harder (and bigger) the more that she touched it.

That was the point where Emily's still slightly stupefied brain realized that she needed to stop.

Unfortunately that was also the exact moment that's Hotch's eyes popped open.

"Hey," she croaked out as her hand involuntarily clenched around his penis, "you're awake."

SHIT!

Feeling his face getting beet red, Hotch stared in astonishment at the woman lying on top of him.

She had her hand on his dick.

"Emily, uh," he squeaked, "what are you doing?"

And why dear GOD why did he have a RAGING hard on right now? What exactly was happening here!

It was at that point . . . the point where Hotch asked the question that Emily had just posed to herself . . . that Emily remembered her hand was still firmly planted on Hotch's crotch.

And feeling her skin burning a similar shade that she could see was staining Hotch's cheeks, she quickly tried to explain herself.

"Not what you think!" She shook her head vehemently, "I wasn't . . . it's just, well there was a thing! And I was . . . well, um," she finally just gave up and finished with a pout, "I was trying to help fix it."

Okay, that was a pretty piss poor explanation. There was a 'thing!' Really Em? THAT'S your explanation for nocturnal humpage?

There was a THING!

"Okay Emily," Hotch's breath caught as he closed his eyes, "whatever you were helping with, uh thanks, I guess. But uh, we're about to have a SERIOUS problem here, so you need to please stop doing that."

He would have reached over and stopped her himself . . . she didn't seem to realize that she was still rubbing as she talked . . . but he was pretty much paralyzed at that point. He was terrified that if he moved . . . and he got the right kind of friction when he did . . . that he was going to completely blow his wad. And having that happen in his _pants_ hadn't been a problem since he was about fourteen!

So still keeping his eyes screwed shut, he tried to run dry crime statistics through his head.

At one time . . . early in his FBI career . . . he'd thought that thinking of crime scene _photos_ would be the way to go in a situation like this. But then he'd become terrified of associating _that_ part of his life, with his sex life.

And then he'd probably never be able to get it up again.

So he just kept running his numbers . . . but it really wasn't working.

His teeth dug into his lower lip.

Not . . . at . . . ALL.

Then he realized the problem . . . Emily's hand was still there. She'd loosened her grip, but her hand was still there.

And she was rubbing with small little whispery strokes.

"Emily," he finally groaned, "seriously, you're really killing me right now."

Emily frowned in confusion for a second . . . and then realized that in her 'frozen in disbelief at getting caught playing with his dick' she'd still been playing with his dick.

"Oh," she yanked her hand back, "geez, sorry! I didn't uh . . . sorry."

It seemed the more she tried to not make things worse, the worse she made them!

For a moment they were both still and quiet . . . it was awkward. And she hated herself for making it awkward. Because things had been really good, and getting better still, and now she'd messed it up.

When her gaze shifted back up the bed, she saw that Hotch's cheeks were still pink, and it was obvious to her that he was lying there trying to regulate his breathing and regain use of his lower body. And her, well . . . her eyes snapped up to the headboard . . . her skin was also still burning. She was so embarrassed.

But she'd also started thinking.

Thinking about their evening so far . . . the date and the kissing . . . and then the last couple of years they'd had together. And then thinking about the next few years coming, and what she wanted out of those years. And then she focused in again on the wet underwear she was wearing. And the faint bit of stickiness that had spread to her thighs. And FINALLY she acknowledged something to herself that she had been trying REALLY hard NOT to acknowledge.

She was incredibly FUCKING horny!

STILL!

With that . . . the acknowledgment of her own little personal pink elephant . . . Emily's eyes fell back down to the great big new year's package just below her.

It had gone down a little bit . . . but not much.

And they'd already clearly moved things things forward earlier in the night from totally platonic, to something more physical. And though they probably wouldn't have had sex for another few weeks, (if they kept moving forward on the 'something more ' path that is) given her nocturnal activities . . . and the resulting fallout . . . she'd already kicked that 'intimacy timetable' up to the forefront.

And completely embarrassed the two of them in the process mind you!

So there was really nothing else that she could think to do at this point, that was going to make things LESS awkward in the morning than they were currently shaping up to be. She could very well have completely fucked up their little courtship.

He might be too embarrassed to hang out like they usually did.

So . . . she took a slow breath . . . why not try to change the night completely? Set a totally new tone. And maybe she could somehow remove the awkwardness, and instead salvage a 'happy ending' all around for both of them?

Maybe.

Besides that though . . . she took another breath as she made an open close fist to nimble up her fingers . . . after everything that she'd just done to him, and the total embarrassment that she'd caused him, it seemed really mean to leave him like that.

With no release.

She'd already had a little release . . . and she'd sure as hell wanted another one . . . but at the very least . . . she nodded to herself . . . they should at least be even on this front.

And then they could go from there.

Also though . . . her hand dropped back down to his crotch . . . now he was awake. So now she wasn't doing things to him while he was sleeping.

That was bad.

But doing things to him while he was awake . . . she started fiddling with the zipper of his dress pants . . . well, that was okay. And really . . . she slipped her hand in to release his hot, iron hard, erection . . . she'd created this problem. So she should fix it.

Really . . . she shimmied back slightly to get a better angle, all the while ignoring the fact that Hotch had clearly just stopped breathing completely . . . if things kept going as they were between them, sex was inevitable. And given what had just happened with the dry humping and the playing with his dick thing, there was NO way that they were going to be able to go back to pretending that everything was totally status quo.

So if they were going to have bizarre awkwardness and avoidance of one another for the next three weeks, she might as well . . . she sucked in a breath as she moved in . . . make it TOTALLY worth their while!

Hotch gasped as he suddenly felt Emily's warm mouth sucking on the tip of his cock.

HOLY . . . SHIT!

"Emily, wha . . ."

Before he could stop himself, his hips had bucked as he gasped again.

'_OH SWEET JESUS! THAT FELT __**SOOO**__**FUCKING**__ GOOD!'_

Some tiny part of his brain thought that he should probably tell her to stop doing what she was doing . . . that if they were going to take this step in their relationship tonight, that they needed to talk about it first . . . but he was ignoring that part of his brain. Because that just seemed like really BORING conversation!

So boring in fact, that he couldn't even make the words come out.

Though he had been able to put a stop to the beginnings of a fine hand job, he wasn't able to put a stop to this. Because if a beautiful woman wakes you up in the middle of the night to give you head . . . no matter the current relationship with said woman . . . it was kind of hard to shut that activity down.

No God damn it . . . It was just WRONG to shut that activity down! Especially given that the woman had more than half his length in her throat. And her mouth was warm and wet and . . . . OH FUCK!

Feeling his hips start to rock, Hotch tried to reach for her . . . but that was the moment where she began gliding her mouth up and down his length. The slow suck, slide, suck motion was KILLING him!

And then her fingers began gently massaging his balls.

JESUS!

He now reaching the point of no return . . . hell, he was BEYOND the point of no return . . . if he didn't cum tonight, he was going to break something vital! But he absolutely did NOT want to do it in her mouth! If they were picking NOW to total change the entire parameter of their relationship, their first 'bodily exchange' sure as hell wasn't going to just be her giving him a blow job!

That was just . . . unchivalrous!

And he was about to say something, when once again his body responded without his permission.

He began to thrust into her mouth.

"JESUS **CHRIST** EMILY!" He groaned as his fingers dug deep into the sheets.

The woman gaze AMAZING HEAD! And again, it was a travesty to put a stop to it . . . but he had just a sliver of self-control left. It wasn't much, but he was finally able to freeze . . . though he could feel his dick practically vibrating in her mouth.

"Emily," he croaked out, "I REALLY appreciate the gesture, I can't even tell you how much I appreciate it, but if you really want to help uh," he waved his hand around, "'resolve this,' maybe we could just have sex."

They'd never had sex before. And though he had gotten to second base when they were kissing earlier . . . her bra was somewhere across the room . . . he hadn't actually planned on carrying things to full 'fruition' tonight. But, well, things happen.

Sometimes . . . his hips bucked again . . . WONDERFUL things!

Emily slowly came slid her mouth back up his length, sucking one the tip one more time . . . she had to admit, she enjoyed having that control over him, making him quiver . . . before she pulled away, licking her lips. Then she looked down at him with a sheepish smile.

"Well, that would be my preference if you don't mind.

Ha! She knew that if she kept that up long enough, he'd make the offer! Not that she wasn't enjoying her little post-midnight snack, but . . . she yanked her cocktail dress over her head . . . this way he'd think that it was his idea!

As Hotch's warm hands immediately came up to cover her bare breasts, Emily shimmied out of her . . . now . . . soaking went thong. After going down on him, she was about to go out of her MIND! Therefore foreplay . . . thought it would have been very nice . . . was NOT needed! So when Hotch dropped one of his hands down from her breasts to slide it into her dripping wet curls, she grinned.

"The gesture is appreciated," her teeth sank into her lip as she gyrated against his thumb, "but as you can feel," she leaned down to kiss him before mumbling against his lips, "we're already good to go downstairs."

Hotch smirked at Emily's response. But then he began nibbling her lower lip as he rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth over her clit.

"Glad to hear it," he murmured against her lips, "but," he suddenly slipped two fingers inside her and she gasped, "if we're doing this," he slid his hand in a little further, "we're doing it right."

Now that she had stopped sucking his dick, he had regained some control over his lower body. Enough to know that he was solid 'downstairs' himself, at least long enough to make her come, and then after . . . he slowly moved his fingers back and forth . . . have some mutual fun for a while.

And when he saw Emily begin to pant as her hips began to rock, he rolled them over so that she was beneath him. And when her respirations increased, he took the opportunity to quickly slide his boxers and his pants down to his knees.

They weren't quite off yet, but he could feel Emily was about to peak, and he wanted to give the matter its due respect. So as his teeth latched onto her left nipple, and her nails scraped through his hair, he focused his middle finger in on the sweet spot down below.

Back and forth, fast and slow, watching her breathing and feeling the clenching of her muscles around his hand. He was filing it all away for a later date.

If you did it right . . . profiling could have some major benefits in your sex life too. And as Emily's lower body began to convulse around his hand . . . just as her breasts arched against him . . . he knew that profiling had come through in a pinch!

"JESUS!" Emily sucked in a breath, "forget what I said about unnecessary gestures! That was totally," she shot him a brilliant grin, "a necessary, MOST appreciated, activity!"

Hotch's lips twitched slightly.

"Glad to hear it," he said with a smirk. His fingers were still inside her . . . and he really would have liked to try that again with just his tongue . . . but he knew that he really wasn't going to last all that much longer.

So he slowly slid his hand back, relishing . . . and again taking note . . . of the warm, wet feel of her. The intimate curves that were now his to explore. And for a moment he held his hand there, just cupping the damp and sticky curls.

Then he leaned forward to kiss her.

"I'd like to do this again," he whispered against her lips. But before she could answer, he clenched his fingers around her pussy, "actually," he kissed her again as he cupped her more possessively, "I'd like to do this all the time," His eyes darkened as a flash of want and need . . . fueled by testosterone . . . washed over him.

"What do you think about that?"

He wanted this . . . he rubbed his palm firmly against her clit . . . to be his. All his, all the time. Nobody else got to touch or play. Just him. And as he saw the tears spring to Emily's eyes, just as she gave him a soft smile, he knew that he was going to have his wish.

"Yes," Emily nodded as she leaned her head up to suck Hotch's lower lip into her mouth, "I'd like to do this all the time too." Then her brow furrowed slightly as her hand came to rest on his cheek.

"But I also want to keep the other stuff, but I want it to mean more. The dinners and the time with Jack. And I want to read the paper together in bed, and just cuddle up and watch TV sometimes like regular people. How about that?" a tear spilled over as she stroked her hand along his cheek, "Do you want that too?"

As long as he was throwing his cards down on the table, she might as well throw hers down too. She wanted everything . . . not just the sex. Though, she certainly wanted that too.

"Yeah," Hotch wiped away the tear as his expression softened, "I want that too." For a moment they just stared at one another, and then his lip quirked up. Emily gave him a shy smile back right before she leaned up to kiss him again.

Awkwardness gone . . . relationship official.

Perfect.

So," Hotch's tone was slightly amused as he slid his sticky hand over to her left hip, "are we ready to get this show on the road?"

Emily's response was to yank apart his dress shirt . . . the buttons went flying across the room.

When his eyebrow rose up in amusement, she laughed.

"You still have clothes on," she chuckled while pulling his shirt down one arm, "now help me get this off so I can play too."

He wasn't keeping that chest under wraps!

"Yes ma'am," Hotch snorted as sat up slightly to help her pull off the white shirt. And then he yanked off his t-shirt . . . that went flying . . . and then finally, he pulled his boxers off his ankle. At the last second before he came back up, he grabbed his socks too.

Buck naked and black socks was never a good look.

On anyone.

Once they were both completely undressed . . . a task that only took about nine seconds (Hotch was pretty properly motivated) . . . Hotch leaned up to knock the pillows to the side.

His hand slid along Emily's curves for a moment before he refocused on the main task, and slid her a little further up the bed. Then he took her left leg and . . . after a few not so chaste kisses on her inner thigh . . . placed it on his shoulder. She grinned at him as she wriggled an inch closer. And then his hands fell to her sides as he moved to slip inside her.

Just as the tip of his penis made contact, a horrible thought came to him.

"Wait," his fingers pressed lightly into her hips, "do we need a condom?"

He praying that it would be a no. He was clean, and he was 99.99% sure that Emily was as well.

He was just worried about making Jack into a big brother, that was it.

"No," Emily smiled up at him, "I'm good, and I'm on the pill," she wriggled another quarter inch, so his erection was pressing fully into her labia, "_now,_ let's get this show on the road." She arched her pelvis up and then down to create friction on her clit, "we're wasting a perfectly good erection here."

Hotch's lips twitched.

"Wasting, huh?" He asked as he lifted her hips and began to slide slowly inside her, "can't have thaaaat."

Though he was aiming for some degree of cool, sardonic wit, the effect was lost by the groan as his pelvis made contact with hers.

He'd just slid all the way in . . . the full length . . . and she felt exquisite. She was warm and tight, yet . . . he leaned forward to place a kiss on her lips . . . soft and wet.

And again he remembered, as he pulled back halfway, this was all his now. She, was all his now. And as he arched his back slightly as he slid back in, he saw her bite her lip.

He made a memory of it, that she liked that.

That it gave her pleasure.

And then he slid out and back again, slowly, over and over, working a nice smooth rhythm as she lifted her hips and met him thrust for thrust. Her hands were pressed against his chest . . . it was starting to get sweaty . . . and when he began to move faster, and he leaned down to bury his face in her throat, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Stay down here with me," she whispered in his ear as her heel hooked onto his shoulder. He nodded as he kissed her throat.

"Okay," he murmured back, "I'll stay here."

So he slid his hands up and along her sides, pulling her even closer . . . close enough that with every additional thrust, her erect nipples scraped back and forth along his chest. He was getting close, he could feel it building just as it had earlier when Emily was going to town with that fabulous mouth of hers.

"Not sure if mentioned it before," he whispered in her ear, "but you give excellent head," and she began to giggle.

"Thanks," she snorted slightly, "your fingers are pretty awesome too." Then she made a smooching sound and he lifted his head from her throat, smiling when he saw her lips were in a perfectly kissable pout.

"Your lips are pretty great too," he murmured as he began to nibble on the lower one, "someday maybe we can finish up that earlier activity."

Haley had never been into blow jobs, but given Emily's 'earnestness' for the task, he was pretty sure that she was.

And that was FABULOUS news for him!

"Oh yeah," Emily began to moan against his mouth, "we're definitely going to play that game again. But in the meantime," her breath suddenly hitched, "I think we're getting close here."

And with that she slid her other leg, up and around his back, pulling him in even deeper. Hotch wouldn't have thought that was possible, but he knew from the breath that Emily lost, that he'd just hit a new spot.

One that made her lose her breath.

Perfect . . . so he began pounding away. They were both panting and gasping and she felt so FUCKING good that he couldn't believe that they hadn't done this before!

And then he felt Emily suddenly grind up against him . . . and she stayed there.

"OH JESUS!" She screamed, "OH FUCK YES!"

The scream came with a scrape of her nails along his shoulders. It hurt . . . but in a good way. And besides . . . he felt his own eyes start to roll . . . that was nice for his ego. But unfortunately . . . he slammed in harder and harder again . . . he wasn't quite there yet himself! So he kept going, feeling the pleasure and the pressure build to a higher and higher pitch as Emily continued to alternate between screams that he covered with his kisses, and a near constant mewling sound that was driving him wild.

She was coming over and over, and her muscles continued to convulse around him.

It was the best FUCK he'd ever had!

And then suddenly she screamed again . . . his name clear as day . . . and as she locked down completely on his dick . . . his back finally arched . . . and he spilled into her with his own shout that he buried in her hair.

FUUUUCK ME!

Even after he could feel the warm seed running along their joined bodies, he kept rocking along the same rhythm . . . she was clearly MORE than capable of multiple orgasms . . . and he wasn't going to cut this last one short.

So he didn't slow down until he heard her breath start to even out, and then he lifted his head to catch her eyes.

"Good?" He asked with a little grin.

"Oh yeah," Emily gave him a sleepy smile, "SO fucking good," she lifted her hand to brush back a sweaty lock of his hair, "we're gonna do this EVERY day. We're going to fuck like rabbits. Is that okay?"

The man had her full on, spastically screaming like a mental patient for like fifteen minutes straight!

"Yeah" Hotch chuckled as he rolled them over to get Emily out of the wet spot on the bed, "yeah, we can definitely fuck like rabbits."

Then she gave him another sleepy smile before laying her head down on his shoulder. His eyes crinkled slightly as she kissed his collarbone. Then he twisted slightly to grab one of the blankets from where it had fallen half off the bed.

He pulled it up and over her body.

And as she snuggled in closer with a murmured, "thanks," he finally started to process what it was that they had done. Not the sex, the sex was a conscious choice, but just how MONUMENTALLY everything had now changed.

But surprisingly, at least to him, it wasn't a scary moment. Though the expected questions did flitter through his brain: Would things at work become awkward? What would they do if people found out they were sleeping together?

Could they actually find a happily ever after?

But the biggest questions, the ones that actually kept him awake even after he felt Emily's soft respirations evening out against his throat, were these: Were they were truly compatible? Or were they just two lonely people that were tired of being alone? And for a few minutes he pondered that, and then a sad smile touched his lips.

It didn't matter. Because it always came down to the second question, people got tired of being alone. They paired up . . . they paired off. And that's what they had done.

They were lonely . . . and they paired off.

And if it turned out in the end that all he and Emily really had in common was a shared drive to rid the world of unspeakable evil, and the ability to give one another mind blowing orgasms, well . . . he slid his hand along her hip . . . that was more than a lot of people got. He leaned over to kiss her sweaty temple . . . and that was enough for now. And later, well, they'd deal with later when it came.

And with that . . . some peace achieved . . . he twisted slightly to reach up and turn off the lamp.

When Emily began to stir at the movement, murmuring, "what's wrong?" as she started to lift her head, he quickly gave her a soft smile.

"Nothing's wrong sweetheart, go back to sleep."

Then he brushed his fingers through her hair . . . and turned out the light.

* * *

_A/N: My inability to simply write a sex scene (or any scene) without some sort of surrounding, underlying character development/relationship building, is somewhat VEXING at times :) Because I couldn't just let Hotch go to sleep, NO, he had to start thinking and giving some depth to a story that I had tried to keep as light and 'airy' as possible. Oh well, it's not like it RUINED it or anything! _

_This story started with some leftover smutty lines that I was going to use in the early chapters of Second Chances, but they got discarded for whatever reason. And now AGAIN, I ended up with leftovers here, so eventually we'll probably have another smut post for smut sake._

_It's too bad I can't really think of a plotline here, because I ended up liking this version of them. Not a great love affair (yet) just them giving a relationship a shot because they didn't want to be alone. Who knows? Maybe I'll come back to them again!_

_Anyway, hope you liked it, and I'm posting this after 2 am, so if you see any typos, that's why! But I just wanted this up so I could move to the next thing tomorrow._

_And thanks for the feedback so far this week! It's always appreciated :)_


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